Chapter Nineteen: Kindred Spirits and Sword Enlightenment

The Daoist of the Fire Dragon gifted the sword manual simply because of what the Taoists called fate. At that time, he was in the prime of his life, roaming the world freely, and had never considered taking on a disciple. Later, the troupe to which Gongsun You belonged disbanded, and the Gongsun sisters, along with the troupe leader, left Luoyang. The Daoist later remembered the Gongsun sisters, but could not find them. Thus, their destined connection was severed.

Only the Daoist of the Fire Dragon understood the true reason behind this. For this reason, even to this day, although Gongsun You has comprehended the essence of the Sword Art of the Maiden of Yue, she remains unaware of the events that transpired back then, and when the Daoist of the Fire Dragon is mentioned, she looks completely baffled.

Pei Min was also stunned after hearing this, secretly envying the Gongsun sisters’ good fortune. He suspected Gongsun You was none other than the famed Lady Gongsun of history, so he steered the conversation towards sword dancing.

Sure enough, when Pei Min mentioned sword dancing, Gongsun You’s eyes lit up, her face brightening with delight as she asked, “Does Master Pei also understand sword dancing?”

“Of course!” Pei Min replied without hesitation. He was not saying this to win Gongsun You's favor; in truth, he genuinely understood sword dancing. In the flourishing Tang era, there were three major sword dances: “General Pei’s Grand Hall Formation,” “Sword Dance of the Flowing Forms,” and “Tune of the Neighborhood.” The “Tune of the Neighborhood” was an ancient sword dance, while “General Pei’s Grand Hall Formation” and the “Sword Dance of the Flowing Forms” were both created by Pei Min and Lady Gongsun themselves.

“In my early years, my father fell gravely ill, and our family needed a large sum for his treatment. My mother, to support me and care for my father, returned to her old profession. Since there was no one to watch over me, she kept me by her side. While she performed on stage, I watched from below. My mother forbade me from practicing sword dance, but after seeing it so many times, I learned much by heart. When she was not around, I would practice alone. Her dance steps, however, were too gentle and soft for me, so I secretly made many improvements! To this day, my mother still doesn’t know I’ve mastered all her prized skills.” As he spoke, he chuckled mischievously.

Watching Pei Min laugh with a childlike innocence, Gongsun You was touched and said, “Master Pei, you are a learned man, yet you hold no disdain for such humble arts.”

“What do you mean by humble arts!” Pei Min retorted, somewhat displeased. “A skill is a skill—there’s no such thing as high or low. So what if it’s sword dance? My mother raised me with her sword dance. Miss Gongsun, just you wait. Didn’t I tell you? When I become an official one day—no, a high official—I shall openly display my sword dance. Let’s see who dares gossip then—I’ll give them a good slap!”

Gongsun You smiled gently, her mood instantly lifting.

Pei Min understood the sword, and so did Gongsun You.

Gongsun You was well-versed in sword dancing, and Pei Min was no different.

Their interests and hobbies were nearly identical, and their conversation flowed effortlessly, without a trace of unfamiliarity.

Whether discussing swordplay or sword dancing, they never ran out of topics.

Pei Min finally understood why the ancients cherished talking through the night by candlelight. It was rare to meet a kindred spirit who shared the same passions, and once parted, who knew when they might meet again? Naturally, one could not bear to leave.

It was not until the early hours, when the innkeeper, having woken from his nap at the counter and unable to tolerate their continued presence, finally issued an eviction notice.

Pei Min had no choice but to bid farewell to Gongsun You and return home under the cover of night.

There was a curfew in Ji City. Though Pei Min carried the token from Xue Na, allowing him to pass unimpeded, he did not wish to attract attention. He avoided the patrolling soldiers and made his way back to the Yuan residence.

The Yuan residence was quiet, but the lamps remained lit. Pei Min knew Yuan Lüqian had left the lights on for him, so he entered quietly.

His mind still abuzz, sleep eluded him. He wandered into the courtyard, recalling the Sword Art of the Maiden of Yue as performed by Gongsun You against Wang Hu, and pondered over the insights they had shared at the inn.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. He thrust his sword forward in a straight line, but halfway through, he shook his head and withdrew—it still felt off.

In Gongsun You’s hands, the Sword Art of the Maiden of Yue was wondrous, ever-changing. Why, when he mimicked it, did it feel so lacking?

Where exactly was the problem?

He stood motionless for an hour, racking his brain. At last, he remembered that when Gongsun You struck, her graceful body leaned slightly, her weight balanced on a single foot.

“That’s it! So that’s the secret! The Sword Art of the Maiden of Yue is indeed no ordinary swordplay. It’s not just the coordination of steps and moves—even the body is part of the calculation. By utilizing the body’s flexibility and merging heart, body, steps, and technique into one, it enables both offense and defense, with endless variations contained within.”

Realizing this, Pei Min could not help but let out a laugh, then quickly remembered it was nearly three in the morning and stifled his voice. He thrust his sword once more, this time inclining his body slightly, neither fast nor slow. Though the thrust was straight, his movement wavered unpredictably, making the attack impossible to judge.

This was the feeling!

Just as Pei Min thought he had mastered a new technique, his foot slipped, and he nearly fell.

His balance was off!

Footwork is the root of all martial arts. Regardless of the weapon, the foundation is paramount—without firm footing, how could one hope to defeat an opponent?

Pei Min valued footwork highly, yet just now he had almost stumbled for no reason.

Wait—this was the same problem faced by the Daoist of the Fire Dragon. His body lacked Gongsun You’s flexibility—he could not achieve the postures she could. When his body followed the sword and the arc grew too large, his muscles and bones could not withstand it. Yet if he restrained himself, he lost that elusive feeling, and the sword’s power was reduced by half, if not more.

Could it be that the Sword Art of the Maiden of Yue was a technique designed for women? Was that why the Daoist of the Fire Dragon so generously gave it away?

With a troubled sigh, Pei Min clutched his head. He had clearly grasped the technique, understood its essence—yet to have a marvelous sword skill and be unable to practice it was true torment for a sword lover such as himself.

No, that’s not right! Pei Min suddenly recalled the technique “Mercy Under the Sword” he had learned from Yuan Hao. The true brilliance of Yuan Hao’s move was not in its form, but in how it incorporated his own strengths—his uniquely long arms allowed him to wield his sword as others did a short spear, turning a single strike into four and greatly increasing its power.

If someone without such long arms tried the same move, its power would be much diminished.

He had noticed this himself, and through much modification, he compensated for his shorter arms with footwork, making “Mercy Under the Sword” more flexible and versatile, and perfectly suited to himself.

Gongsun You’s technique was indeed not suited for him, but if he could, like with “Mercy Under the Sword,” adapt and refine it into a version that suited his own body, wouldn’t that be marvelous?

With this thought, Pei Min threw caution to the wind, sat down cross-legged in the courtyard, and began to ponder deeply.

He sat there thinking the entire night!

It had been easy to improve Yuan Hao’s sword technique, but to adapt the Sword Art of the Maiden of Yue—one of the finest techniques of the age—was a far greater challenge.

Yet Pei Min delighted in the process; he did not feel the least bit tired after a whole night.

“Brother Pei!” Yuan Lüqian shook Pei Min, who sat as still as a stone. “What are you doing? I called you but you didn’t answer. It’s time to eat.”

“Oh!” Pei Min came to himself and said, “Alright, there’s something I can’t figure out. Let’s eat. After breakfast, I’ll think some more!”